Remembering
by Owl Emporium
Summary: It's been almost three years since they've last seen each other. All he wants to do is hold her and say how sorry he is; all she wants is to know why. Will/Rachel, futurefic.


**AN:** Oh goodness, I haven't written anything in almost two years...but this idea starting bugging the heck out of me when I saw the Rocky Horror Glee Show again the other day. It became more annoying and persistent when I found pictures of Lea and Matt's performance at the Wiltern last October in my computer. (It was _amaazing_ and my inner Willchel/Schueberry fangirl was squealing the entire time.)

I should probably be taking my placement exams and working on my summer homework right now. Ha! Enjoy.

**Disclaimer:** Don't own anything! Damn. :/

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><p><em>Beep, beep, beep!<em>

He groaned, slamming the snooze button, pulling the covers over his head, pretending he had nothing to do that day, that he didn't have to get up and start another meaningless day.

He was good at that. Pretending, that is.

As another set of annoying beeps informed him, ten minutes had passed since he began pretending on that Tuesday morning. Or did he ever stop? He pretended not knowing that even in his dreams, he pretended. He pretended he didn't miss her. He pretended he didn't pretend, that he had no reason of doing so.

That's what made him such a great actor.

_Hey, this is William Schuester. Please leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible._ There was a beat, then his trademark "Speaaaak!" resonated throughout the apartment. He cracked a smile: it reminded him of a time not so long ago, when he was exited to be living in the great city of New York, happy he had made the jump, and completely overwhelmed by what was happening to him.

"Hey, buddy!" the voice of his agent reached his ears. "Just calling to remind you of tomorrow's GMA interview. And don't be late today, you're meeting the cast." The man hesitated for a second; Will knew he wanted to ask. "Alrighty, talk to you later. Call me if you need anything, yeah? Okay then...bye. Be good." Click.

Will sighed. He knew John was just worried about him, but honestly, when asked the question, he didn't know the answer to it himself. _What's wrong?_ He didn't know.

But he _did_.

In less than half-an-hour, he was out the door, hailing a cab towards Minskoff Theater, arriving twenty minutes later. Paying for the cab, he walked inside, nervously twitching his hands. He honestly had no idea what to expect. Playing Brad in "The Rocky Horror Show" for it's 40th anniversary brought back memories, memories he had tried to erase. Memories of his young ingenue exclaiming, "Finn and I will be playing Brad and Janet," memories of gold shorts and Sam's eventual refusal to wear them on stage, almost forcing Will to- _Oh, God it would've been her and him in the tank_.

He refused to name her; it had been almost three years since he had last seen her, since he had last touched her. She had been so close, yet so unattainable to him, about to head of to Julliard and make her dreams come true. And when he finally had the chance to say something, when it was _legal_, he ran away, tail between his legs, scared shitless.

It had been different with her. It wasn't like it had been with Terri, or Emma. With Terri, it had been firsts and dreams and disappointments. With Emma, it had been hopes and wishes, forbidden touches and the reality that no, it wouldn't work between them crashing down, suffocating him, leaving a gaping hole in his heart.

With her it had been different. It had happened so subtly, he failed to realize what was going on inside him, between them, until it was far too late. The thoughts came in such an understated manner; he hadn't known what had been happening at first, that he was thinking inappropriate thoughts about her, _his student_. They came at him during the day and in the cover of the night, each time becoming more and more confusing, more and more tempting. The desire to touch her, to hold her, to make her smile, to punch Finn's face when he made her cry, to pound Noah's head when he winked and smacked her butt playfully, the desire in him that erupted as he wished she had laughed and shook her head at _him_ and not the boy, the ache that burned in him for her to touch _him_, to wink at him like she did playfully at Kurt, confused him to no end. He had been jealous of _Kurt_ for crying out loud.

He'd found himself staying up late in the night, wondering why these sudden thoughts came to him, what he was being punished for. They were wrong, they were painful, they were addicting. _She_ was addicting.

He couldn't stop then; he pretended he could stop now.

The cast seemed nice enough, except for the guy playing Rocky: he was a grade-A asshole, cocky and already a nuisance to him. He had dealt with worse however in this job, the unfortunate month that Bonnie had been out during his 19-month stay at the Gershwin Theater. He had been forced to deal with Jenna, the Devil's Spawn, as he, and a few others, had called her mentally. He knew it was wrong, that calling her anything other than her name was unprofessional, but her diva attitude had reminded him of a younger version of _her_, the one who screamed at him and fought him for what she thought was rightfully hers, the one who sent competition to a crack house, the one who tried so hard and wanted so badly. When he had kissed Jenna, it felt wrong, reminded him of "Endless Love" and venison casserole; not all the Glinda make-up and puffy dresses and blonde hair would make him _not_ think of her, the younger, immature version of herself, who he had at one point wished could come back to him, if only to sing "Endless Love" with again. Then Bonnie came back and he was relived: Bonnie was safe, was sweet and kind, and not at all like Jenna had been.

He found himself thinking that she was a perfect mix of both: strong with a take-no-prisoners attitude, but sweet and kind at the same time. He remembered how she had smiled softly at him in their last Glee Club rehearsal in her senior year and touched his arm in what she thought was a comforting gesture, oblivious to how it made his skin burn, how it left him more unsettled then before, and her more confused as to what was happening with her favorite person, to her best friend.

"There's our Janet!" he heard the director exclaim enthusiastically to his right.

"I'm sorry I'm late! There was tons of traffic, it was horrible," a voice said behind him apologetically, breathless and...oh God, he had to be dreaming.

He didn't turn, even when he heard the laughs and assurances that it was fine, that she needn't worry. Introductions reached his ears but he was scared, back again at graduation, wishing her the best of luck, assuring her that she would make it big, telling her to call even when he knew then, he would not call back, that he would be too scared to, because William Schuester was a coward and she was too real, too _perfect_ for him to bring down with all that damn baggage he had strapped onto his back.

"Will?" the melodic voice asked breathlessly, but this time for a completely different reason than running two blocks because the stupid cab driver wasn't moving fast enough.

"Rachel..."

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> One more thing: I am intentionally mixing up the tenses (somewhat...heh) and being repetitive. I want to give the impression that he's confused as Finn...on a bad day. (Let's give the poor guy some credit, si?)

Review, por favor! If not for me, do it for Rachel and Will, who need more stories up in here. (;


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